"It is possible to make a visually rich, involving short film with all
the polish and style of a major Hollywood release."

OK. That's sensible. You buy that. Try this one:

"It is possible to make a visually rich, involving short film with all
the polish and style of a major Hollywood release...for around $30,000."

No? You'd better stop laughing because, if you didn't buy that one, you may
not realize just how "sensible" such a concept really is.

Makeup man Carl Nuhfer touches up Kristina Robbins between scenes.

When writer/director Elise Robertson set out to adapt the F. Scott
Fitzgerald short story, "The Sensible Thing," she went in knowing she
would not have all the luxurious resources of a big budget production.

Still, the talented, young filmmaker overcame production snafus, money
problems and legal obstacles to complete the Fitzgerald story. In the end, she
developed an acclaimed short film that found a home as the premiere episode of
PBS' new series, "American Storytellers."

"The day I got the call from the Fitzgerald estate granting me
permission to use his wonderful story, basically, for a song, I knew I had to do
whatever it took to make it happen. And Fitzgerald's name spoke volumes to
everyone we contacted for donations. The goodwill of the community was truly
astounding."

Starring Jason Cole and Kristin Robbins, "The Sensible Thing"
tells the story of an extended courtship between a woman of high society and a
young man of limited means. Adapted for the screen and directed by Robertson,
the film's crew needed to hustle, bend the law, call-in favors, and pinch every
penny to make the engrossing, richly-detailed 30-minute production.

Every crew member and performer had to focus every ounce of their talent and
energy as nine-day shoot moved from Alameda to San Francisco to Sacramento.
When you're shooting unlimited imagination and ambition with a very limited
budget, every shot and every take counts!

With restricted capital and a tight shooting schedule, Robertson and her
team needed to think on their feet to overcome a series of spur of the moment
obstacles.

Robertson explained one situation in which one of her key supporting players
came up lame hours before call-time.

"The morning of the first day of shooting, on the way to our first
location, I got a call from the actress playing Jonquil's Mother,"
Robertson said. "She broke her foot, and we couldn't block around it. So
with a very tight schedule, we had less than 24 hours to recast the part,
rehearse, and shoot the first scene."

Robertson added, "While on break that night between shots, we
auditioned Barbara Van Dermeer, who stepped in to do the part the next day --
and she ended up doing a great job."

Any major feature film might have to recast an ailing actor before principal
photography, but independent films like Robertson's "The Sensible Thing"
needed to pull off more unusual stunts to keep the cameras rolling.

According to Robertson, the most unusual ploy might have been Operation
Banana Bread! The crew found themselves in Alameda shooting without permits
which failed to arrive in time. One cranky neighbor didn't want the crew
shooting past 10:00 p.m. and could easily have shut down the whole production
with one phone call to the police. Robertson and company calmed the nutty
neighborhood with equally nutty homemade banana bread baked the night before
that day's shooting!

When the crew needed a turn-of-the-century style home to serve as a set
during the shoot, they managed to get the owner's permission by providing a
little manual labor. The house needed some drywall and other touch-up work.
So, in return for their shooting time inside the home, the crew took up hammers
and pitched in some hard sweat to patch up the house.

Nick Blake, the production designer credited with the daunting job of
creating the period look of "The Sensible Thing," said the successful
independent short needed a little luck to stay afloat.

"We only built one set, so everything else in the film was shot on
location," Blake said. "We had a lot of luck finding the right places
to shoot. We searched for trains that fit the period, neighborhoods that
included buildings from that area. We had to research interior decor, clothes,
cars and lifestyle of the period -- and then find ways to get all that on
screen!"

Blake explained that the film's low-budget combined with the filmmakers'
enthusiasm to convince some people to lend a hand.

"By and large people were helpful. When they saw that this was a bunch
of young people trying to make a film, they were impressed by that commitment.
People would let us use their homes or their cars because it was non-profit
film. And, since it was F. Scott Fitzgerald, I think some people gave that
respect."

While the California Railroad Museum featured in the film required cash to
let the film crew inside (and some others demanded city permits to allow
production), most other host shoot sites didn't require money from Robertson and
her crew.

To fill the movie's exterior establishing shots with cars suitable to the
era, Robertson managed to recruit the Sacramento Model T Club to donate their
vehicle to the production -- as long as the cars' owners were allowed to drive
the cars on camera for their 15 seconds of film fame.

Even Panavision, the finest and most expensive motion picture camera
manufacturer in the industry, donated a 35 mm camera to the shoot on a one day
at a time basis.

Blake added, "The film was just a lot of fun to work on because it was
really interesting doing a period movie -- recreating 1925! From Elise on down
to every actor and crew-member, we all did whatever we needed to do to make it
happen!"

Michael Maley, director of photography, said such a "whatever it takes"
attitude is key to making a successful independent film.

"You have to think when you're on an independent shoot, as opposed to a
big studio film," Maley said. "You have to be spontaneous and
creative -- ready to solve problems on the spot."

Elise recalls her working relationship with Maley: "It was synergy. I
would start explaining a scene, going through and telling him the story shot by
shot, and then he would start suggesting camera moves and variations I hadn't
thought of. By the end of each discussion we would both be so excited, jumping
around and acting out the scenes and where the camera would go..... and of
course Mike was always pushing for great camera angles and moves I thought were
beyond our time and budget capabilities. But he'd find a way to make them
happen. He used a helicopter mount on a dolly to get a shot on the moving
train, and crouched on a doorway dolly mounted on top of the bathroom stalls
in the Flood building for a special shot of George entering the stalls. I'd
always say éIf you can do it in the time we have, I'm game.' And
he would!."

Maley added that, while money solves most problems on a studio shoot, only
creative thinking can help independent films get made.

Robertson recalled one incident where such quick thinking saved the
film...and several hundred trees!

"The day we shot the train establishing shots, we put out what could
have been a major forest fire!" she said. "Some foolish smoker tossed
a cigarette butt into the dry grass near where we'd set up. We watched in
horror as a fire started and spread."

Robertson saw the flames and ran across the tracks with duvatene cloth (used
to protect the camera from the sun). She started beating out the fire while
male crew-members used their shirts to smother the minor blaze.

"It took about 10 minutes, but we got all the flames out just as the
fire department pulled up. Had we not been there, that 10 minutes would have seen it get way out
of control in the dry August heat!"

Even in the heat of battle, Maley said the entire production was well worth
the effort.

"The best part of the whole experience was seeing Elise's dream come to
fruition," Maley said. "I never imagined it would so good. As a DP,
that's rewarding."